After That the Dark
by operafangrl
Summary: Twelve years after the dragon attack at Helgen, the Dragonborn has saved the world from Alduin's hunger and disappeared from the world. A young Imperial girl, Rena, lives quietly in Whiterun until Thalmor agents come to kill her and her mysterious guardian, Aronil. Now Rena must find out the truth, or let the world succumb to permanent chaos and ruin. OC.
1. Chapter 1

"Again!" Aronil barked. I dropped my bow arm to my side and used my free hand to wipe the sweat from my eyes. I could feel my body beginning to shake with the strain of practice, but I took another arrow from my quiver and nocked it into place. My aim wasn't too bad today, but only a small percentage of my shots were direct center hits. I drew the bow-sting back to my ear and concentrated on the bulls-eye, trying to still the shaking in my fatigued arms.

"Relax your shoulders!" shouted Aronil again. I inhaled, and did as he commanded, even though it only seemed to make aiming harder. The three straw targets were bristling with arrows; I was a fair enough archer that my arrows always hit the target, but that was never enough for my teacher.

"Don't lock your knees! The bow string is tension, YOU are not!" Finally, my arms couldn't take anymore and I released the arrow with a solid _thrum! _But before the arrow had even plunged into the target, I felt the chill of my teacher's disappointment. It stood a few inches outside of the center mark, and few a inches meant all the difference. All of the quivers were empty now, which meant that the lesson was over, so I surveyed the three targets and counted quickly in my head: thirty-seven arrows in the center mark; only two in the very dead-center.

"Retrieve your arrows," said Aronil, his tone stern and almost cold. Silently, I obeyed and began taking out each arrow and filling up the leather quivers until they brimmed with feathers. It wasn't quite dusk yet, and the afternoon sun still blazed across the Whiterun plains. Even so, there was a chill in the air, as there always was, here in Skyrim. When I had finished, I walked back to my starting point, where Aronil was waiting, and placed the full quivers at his feet. His sharp elven features were marred by a single thin scar running from his left ear to his right chin, like a lightning bolt across his sallow skin. His scar only made his frown more pronounced, and I dropped my gaze to the ground.

"You know are better than this, Rena."

"Yes, teacher," I replied.

"A great archer must have the discipline to fire _all _of his arrows with precision and cause. A shot is _never _wasted. He must know everything that goes on around him, and yet not let anything affect his shot. Do you understand?"

"Yes, teacher."

"Look at me, Rena," he said. I looked up and met his eyes. He scrutinized me for a moment, and then nodded to himself. "This world is dangerous. Always be vigilant, and ready to defend yourself. Enemies do not give second chances." With that, he turned and started walking back up the stone path to the main gate. I slung the quivers across my arms and shoulders and followed a step behind him. I told myself that I would do better next time, but my frustration only seemed to get worse. An inch could be the difference between killing an opponent, and giving him another chance to kill you. I would not be a second-rate archer, who uses half of his quiver trying to fell a deer. I wanted to be the best, or at least as good as Aronil. He was a master marksman; maybe the greatest there ever was. People would whisper about his shadowed past, but it was all speculation. Some said he used to work for the Dark Brotherhood. Others claimed that the Dark Brotherhood were contracted to kill him, but no assassin ever could. Some even said he slew a dragon on his own, with nothing but an ebony bow. But I didn't believe any of it. He was my teacher and my guardian, and we lived quiet, normal lives. He was old now anyways, and his bronze colored hair had long since faded to white. The Whiterun guards nodded respectively to us as we passed within the city walls, and dusk was settling fast upon the Hold. Young Arius Avenicci hammered away at his family's forge, with his hard-faced mother, Adrianne, observing nearby. As we passed, Adrianne looked over and called out:

"Aronil! I just bought two Dwemer bows off of some Khajiit traders, and would like you to come and look at them when you can. I want to make sure they're real before I go selling them off."

"Is there something about them that makes you question their authenticity?"

"I just want a second opinion."

"You must have been very taken with these new bows if you bought them before consulting your husband. His prejudice against the caravans is well known, and ill-deserved," Arondil said coldly. They both stared each other down for a moment, and then Aronil continued. "I will come by tomorrow and examine them." Aronil began walking again immediately, and I nodded my head respectfully to Adrianne as we went by; she nodded back and then turned back to her son to correct him on some smithing technique. It was Arondil's job to be himself: cold, stern, and wise. No one expected him to polite or gracious; that was my job. At the top of the Plains District, the outdoor stalls in the market were closing, and Aronil silently waded through the crowd as a hunter might quietly weave through thick forest. I made an effort to greet a few people as we walked, but Aronil's determined stride made it impossible to formally socialize. I could sense he was going to be in one of his "thinking" moods, which probably meant locking himself inside of his bedroom and not talking to anyone. Our house was small, but functional, and huddled against the protection of the city's stone wall. The small cabbage garden was yielding its last harvest, and I watched a pale Luna moth gently pause on each leafy, green head.

"I'm working at the Bannered Mare until midnight tonight," I reminded him, as I closed the door behind us.

"Hm," he replied absently. I placed the quivers on their respective stands and watched Aronil take a piece of bread off the table and go into his room. The doors closed, the lock clicked, and the house was quiet again. I ran my hands over the top of the arrows, feeling the soft feathers beneath my touch. What was I really practicing for? An Imperial girl, living in a safe-walled city, with no chance of ever leaving and exploring the lands beyond; I would probably end up working at the Mare until I died. Aronil forbid me from trying to join the Companions, and I wasn't a good enough fighter to be accepted anyway. The Temple was always looking for new priests to serve Kynareth and the other Divines, but I had no talent in magic or healing. The only danger I had to worry about was the groping hands of drunken Nords, but Aronil made me keep a steel dagger in my boot just in case. My world was Whiterun, and that was it. I crossed into my room and quickly changed out of my leather armor, and into my usual green and brown dress. I splashed water onto my face, rubbed away some of the dust and dirt, and re-braided my hair. I pulled my coin purse out of my dresser, and tied it so I could conceal it under the folds of my dress and out of reach from pick pockets. Ursine liked her serving girls to look pretty, but I did not have the desire or patience to wear make-up, and I didn't have the gold to waste on lip coloring or blush. I was short for seventeen, and still looked like more of a girl than a woman, which frustrated me to no end. Sure, there were perks, like being able to crawl into small spaces or climb easily to the tops of trees. But everyone thought I was too young or too fragile or too naïve to do anything useful. _That's why I need archery,_ I told myself. _Because I _can _make it on my own._ My hands were not smooth and dainty; they had calluses and blisters and small scars earned from weapon practice and hard work. I was proud of my hands. They could tell my story as easily as a book, as long you knew how to read them. _If only they could get me more bull-eyes during practice_. I sighed and I left the house, being careful to lock the door as I left and stick the key in the coin purse. Outside, dusk had settled on the world and Whiterun guards paced slowly through the streets with torches in hand. I made to sure to walk in sight of a guard at all times (you couldn't live with Aronil without acquiring some of his paranoia) until I reached the inn.

Inside, the fire pit was beginning to die and the seats around it were mostly empty. The townspeople would be here soon, and maybe a few travelers with coin to rent a room. Ursine wasn't at the bar, so I just assumed she was refilling her mead stocks from the storage room. I placed a few more logs on the pit, and stoked the fire up a bit before Ursine came back out into the main hall, her arms brimming with fresh bottles of mead.

"Oh, good! You're here. They'll be coming in soon, I'm sure. Go and sweep out the rooms upstairs, and then come back and see if all the guest rooms still have fruit and sweet rolls set out on the tables," she instructed. When that was all done, I climbed back down the stairs just in time to see a Breton leaning against the bar with a lute in one hand, and a drum strapped to his back.

"Are you the new bard, then?" Ursine asked suspiciously. I smiled slightly and then started to sweep around the hall, waiting for the "show" to begin. To clarify, Ursine liked music, but only if it was done well. When she took over, her first order of business was to get rid of the previous (and notorious) bard, Mikael, and replace him with someone who "drank less, and sang more." But ever since the war ended, every (now unemployed) soldier who could hold a tune—and some that couldn't—rushed to the Bard's College, or tried to learn the musical arts on their own. For a while, there seemed to be a new bard every week at the Mare. Eventually, the number of applicants decreased, but Ursine never seemed to keep a bard for more than a few weeks. This new bard looked young; too young to have been in the war. His fingers tapped anxiously against the bar top and his speech was stuttered and nervous.

"Yes, I am seeking employment. I mean, I would like to. If that's alright. I would…I would like to play for you. And then you can decide. About the job. I mean, if you want to give me the job or not." I glanced up from my sweeping and made eye contact with Ursine. Her smile seemed warm but her eyes glinted with amusement. _Poor guy, _I thought.

"Are you trained?" she asked. "I won't be having any untrained bards in my hall. We do have _some _standards."

"Oh, yes. At Solitude with the college. The Bard's College. That's where I was trained." Ursine eyed him carefully again, and then nodded.

"Well, they'll be here any minute, so why don't you set yourself up in a corner over there. What's your name, boy?"

"Alix, m'lady!" he responded eagerly.

"Milady? Did you hear that Rena?" she said. "I'm a simple inn-keeper, boy. Not some lady up in Dragonreach." She winked at him and the Breton flushed red with embarrassment.

"Oh! I apologize, my-, um miss…Uh, I mean…"

"You can call her Ursine, like the rest of us," I said, trying to rescue what confidence he had left, before he floundered into pieces.

"Yes. Thank you," he said gratefully, still blushing, and then rushed over to a dark corner to tune his lute. After stifling my giggles behind my hand, I put the broom away and stepped behind the bar to whisper to Ursine.

"What mother in her right mind would send that nervous wreck to be a bard?" I asked.

"Yes, but could you imagine if she sent him to be a Companion?" Ursine laughed at her own joke, and then kept laughing until she was in the next room. I absently started to rearrange the bottles in nice rows when the Breton returned to the bar. This time, he didn't seem to have any words left. He placed a few gold coins on the counter, and pointed to one of the bottles. I passed him his drink, stowed away the coins, and then waited until he had a few swigs to start asking my own questions.

"Are you from High Rock?"

"No. But my parents were," he answered. Another swig.

"Have you always lived in Skyrim? Where?" The Breton sighed, and the twitchiness in his body seemed to calm down.

"My father left us when I was very young, and so my mother raised me alone in Falkreath."

"What's Falkreath like? I've never been there."

"There's a large cemetery there…very gloomy. And everything is named for death. Mother didn't like that, so she started to rename things in town that weren't so depressing. And when I was little, we used to-I'm sorry. I…I got off track. I didn't mean to. I'm not really sure why I started telling you all of those things," he said shyly. _I like him. He seems honest, _I thought.

"Oh, don't worry. People do that all the time with me. Aronil says it has something to do with me being an Imperial…"

"Oh," the Breton said. A moment of silence passed and he took another drink. Ursine didn't like me badgering the travelers but…where else was I going to hear about the world?

"I've forgotten your name," I realized suddenly.

"It's Alix."

"My name is Rena," I said, just as Ursine walked back into the room.

"I can hear them outside. Rena, open the doors, and let the bard be!" she scolded.

"Good luck!" I whispered to him, and then I went and opened the large oak doors. The usuals came in first and greeted myself and Ursine loudly, as with everything Nords do. A few of the stall keepers from the plaza came in as well, and the night began. The first hour or so was a flurry of motion, as Ursine directed me to serve this person or that person, bringing in coin, handing out mead, sweeping ashes, stoking the fire. The cook, Abbard, arrived a few minutes later than everyone else, and was soon swamped with orders for venison chop and mudcrab stew. It was only after everything had settled down a bit, that I realized the bard had not started singing or playing anything. I looked over and Alix sat alone in his corner with his eyes closed and muttering to himself. I set down my platter of mead, and walked over to him.

"Alix? Are you ready? Everyone's pretty much seated now, so you can start," I whispered. Alix nodded and stopped muttering.

"Sorry. I just wanted to make sure I had it memorized. I'm ready." He took another swallow of courage from his second mead bottle and took an empty place by the fire. I stepped over to bar with Ursine and waited to see what the Breton could do. But before he could even start, one of the Battle-Born's cried out: "Sing the song of the Dragonborn!" A hearty "yeah!" erupted in the hall, and Alix gave a small bow to show his understanding. And then he began to pluck the strings of his lute and sang out with a sweet, light voice about the mighty Dragonborn and their sky-shattering Voice. Most of the other patrons began to sing along, and their coarse voices drowned out the bard. When the song ended, the Nords clashed their drinks together and laughed merrily. Alix looked over at me and I nodded with approval. The first test was over, and the bard had passed unscathed. He took out a flute from his pocket and began to play a jaunty tune, eventually inciting a few of the patrons to begin dancing with each other.

"Not bad," Ursine observed. "The little Breton has some talent after all. If only he didn't shake like a wet dog." After two more songs, the young bard stopped and the Nords applauded him and then called for more mead. Alix sat back down in his corner, and I quickly finished another round of serving so that I could join him at his table.

"You're good! Ursine likes you, too, I think."

"Really?" Alix asked. "That's such a relief to hear. I hope she takes me on. I haven't found a solid job since I left home." I was about to ask more questions when a drunken Olfrid Battle-Born stumbled over to where we sat.

"Rena! Dear Rena! You are so beautiful you should…you should marry my son Jon! He would be perfect for you, little Rena!" he said, his speech already slurred and muddled.

"I'm never going to marry, Olfrid. I tell you that every day," I said simply.

"Give it up, Olfrid. Rena's too young for him anyway. And besides, your Jon is already married, Battle-Born! He ran off and married that Gray-Mane girl, Olfina. Or did you forget?" Ursine shouted.

"My son would NEVER marry a Gray-Mane. Death to the Stormcloaks!" he bellowed.

"The war is over, Olfrid! Stop your shouting. You're probably giving the Grey-beards as headache!" Ursine remarked. The hall erupted with laughter and Olfrid stumbled off, muttering to himself.

"You're never going to marry?" Alix asked suddenly. I laughed and slouched back into my chair.

"Never. Not even if Mara herself came down and commanded it."

"Why's that?"

"Well, maybe not THAT extreme. I would only marry someone if they were a great warrior and adventurer. And then we could roam and discover all of Skyrim together. But that is the only exception. Aronil would never let that happen, though. He'll want me to stay in Whiterun forever."

"Oh. Is Aronil your father?"

"Not really. Where else have you traveled on your way to Whiterun?" I asked quickly, trying to turn the conversation around.

"Rena!" Abbard called from the kitchen. I sighed and got up from the table.

"Sorry. I'll be back," I said. Abbard was in the kitchen stirring away at some stew with lumps of mud crab meat bobbing around in it.

"What is it, Abbard?"

"Took you long enough!" he muttered impatiently. "By all means, just waltz in whenever you feel like it. Not like you're wasting anyone's time! And you know, I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but the Redguard woman who worked here before you was even worse. Walked around this place like she was some kind of royalty. Hmph!"

"Abbard! What do you need?" I said, interrupting his tirade.

"Ah, yes. Go outside and see if there is any lavender growing outside. I'm experimenting with some new cake flavors, and I can't leave the stew or it will burn. My skills are wasted here in this second-rate inn, you know that? I should be cooking in a REAL kitchen in a powerful city, like Solitude!" I rolled my eyes and went outside through the kitchen door before I had to suffer through more of his complaining. The night air was fresh and chilly, the kind that promised snow. I picked around the plants growing nearby, but I couldn't find lavender. There were some mountain flowers and torchbugs, but no lavender.

"Excuse me!" someone called. I turned around and saw a courier running up to me. "Excuse me, I'm looking for an Altmer named..umm…." He reached into his satchel and read the name scribbled on a folded letter. "Aronil? Do you know where he might be?"

"Yes. Go down this way, take a left at the general goods store, and it's the house near the wall," I directed him. The courier thanked me and strode off towards the direction of the house. _I wonder what that's about?_ I shook my head and headed back into the inn. Probably another pamphlet asking people to sign a petition and allow a museum/shrine dedicated to the Dragonborn to be opened in Skyrim (they hadn't decided on where it would be, since everyone wanted it to be in their own Hold or city). Aronil hated the idea, and even made his _own _petition to discontinue the project. Still, we received a pamphlet almost every month. Aronil always burned them; I was never given the chance to read them.

Once inside the inn, I told Abbard there was no lavender and left him to rant to himself about being "unable to fulfill his culinary potential." Alix was playing a new tune on his lute, and Ursine put me right to work again. The hours passed, and, mercifully, my shift ended. My arms were gripped with soreness from archery practice, and my legs felt like jelly from running drinks and food back and forth.

"Go on home, Rena. I can take it from here," Ursine said, dismissing me with a wave. I never got the chance to speak with the bard after coming inside, and as I left he was still busy playing his flute. _I'll talk to him tomorrow, _I reasoned. I was too tired for conversation anyway. I walked back to the house, reached into my purse (now jingling with tips), and pulled out the key. But as I reached the door, I froze.

The door was open and the house was dark.

Everything inside of my head seemed to scream with alarms. The quivers and my hunting bow were right by the door, so I reached into the dark and quickly pulled a quiver out and readied an arrow in my bow.

"Hello? Aronil?" I called. I took a deep breath and crossed the threshold into the main room. The fire was all ash, except for a few glowing embers. The chairs and table were unmoved and everything appeared normal…I walked carefully over to Aronil's door, my bow still drawn and ready. I knocked on the door, and it swung open easily. Inside, the room was empty and drawers and dressers were pulled out, as if someone had been packing very quickly. I stepped quickly around the room and observed everything, just like Aronil had taught me to. Some things were missing from his desk and drawers, so I knew that he had taken what he could and fled. The window was unlatched, but closed, which meant he probably went out that way. _But…he wouldn't just leave me here. Would he? Wouldn't he have said something? _I looked inside the chest he kept under the bed, but it was completely empty. Or, it would appear that way to a thief. I pressed on the bottom of the chest, and it lifted up into a false bottom. There was a single piece of parchment at the bottom with a hastily scribbled word: _Frostfall. _

Aronil was always careful. He had to be. And as my guardian, he took it on himself to teach me a few things. We even had a series of words, like a secret code, that we could use should we ever need to. And the one word that meant life-threatening danger, the one that meant "leave as fast as you can," was staring me right in the face. I jumped up from the floor and ran to my bedroom. It was empty and untouched, by I paused at the open door. Something wasn't right. Something smelled like it was…burning. I looked at the ground and could see faint lines scribbled on the floor with the same glowing color as the fireplace embers. _A fire rune, _I thought hopelessly. One step and I would be engulfed in flames. Could I jump across? Would it still go off if I tried? I debated with myself for a while, desperate to get my leather armor in the dresser that was only a few feet away. _We need to get out NOW_, I berated myself. I'll have to get new armor or something. I went back to Aronil's room and opened the strongbox on his bookshelf. It was still full, so I grabbed a few handfuls and stuffed them in my purse, along with a silver necklace I could barter later. There was a sack nearby and started to stuff it with all the food on the table. In my haste, I accidentally knocked over one of the plates and the apples scattered across the floor. One began to roll towards the fire rune at my door, and before I could stop it, my doorway exploded with heat and flames. I was knocked back by the force, and watched as fire began to lick its way up the wooden walls and engulf the straw roof. I fled outside and didn't even turn back to see my home going up in smoke. I ran down the road toward the gate as fast as I could, and watched guards shooting past me in the opposite direction toward the burning house.

_Frostfall, _I kept telling myself. _Frostfall means flee. Frostfall means hide. Frostfall means death. _The explosion had alerted more guards than I thought, and the gates were (thankfully) open as more came pouring in. _They probably think it's a dragon, _I thought. As I ran, I tried to formulate a plan in my head. But it had also just dawned on me that Aronil never specified _where _to go.

_I could hire the carriage, _I thought. _But then what? Whoever they are, they want Aronil. So I just need to go and stay somewhere. Anywhere. He will find me. _My heart was pounding as I made it to the bottom of the hill and to the stables. The carriage was there, waiting, but the rest of the stable was deserted. One of the horses in the stalls nickered at me as I passed, and I jumped at the noise.

_Keep calm! _I commanded myself. _The bow is tension, you are not. _I cleared my throat and stepped up the carriage where the driver was sitting.

"Excuse me, I need to hire your carriage. I need to go to…Falkreath," I said. The driver didn't respond and I looked around us. "Excuse me?" The driver didn't move. _Maybe he's deaf? _I gently prodded the driver's arm, and he slumped over on his seat. There was a gash across his neck, like a ruby smile. It was hard to tell in the dark, but the more I looked, the more dark blood I could see drenching his clothes. I put a hand over my mouth to stop me from screaming.

"Falkreath, eh? I wouldn't. It's not very pretty this time of year. Or really any part of the year," a cool voice observed. I spun around and found myself cornered by three elves. Two were dressed in gold-colored armor, and the one in the center wore dark robes and was cleaning off a glass dagger with a blood-soaked cloth.

"So you're Aronil's pup," the center elf said. "You certainly are a runt. And an Imperial runt, at that. Where has your master gone, little girl. Tell me now, and your death will be quick," he ordered, his tone sounded bored.

"I don't know," I said. _Stay calm. Stay calm. _I realized then that all of the guards who might be able to help me were now gone, thanks to the explosion in my house. Another thing to add to the list of mistakes. The elf looked at me with cold dark eyes, and then nodded to his guards. Before they could grab me, I scurried under the carriage and ran towards the stalls. None of the horses were saddled, but I jumped on the back of the nearest mare and galloped out into the road. Several ice spikes flew past my head, and the horse was spooked enough that I didn't have to urge her forward. I grabbed fistfuls of mane and kept my head low. Every second, I felt like I was going to slide right off, and the galloping pace didn't make it any better. I could hear the elf man yelling and snarling after me. But I couldn't look back, or else I might fall off. I didn't know where the horse was going, but she kept on the road to the south toward the river and the gorge. Suddenly, I heard another pair of hooves pounding up behind me, and the elf in the dark robes pushed his horse astride with mine. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his palm fill with fire and then extend and shoot out a ball of flames ahead of us. It landed on the road in front of us and briefly exploded. My horse reared and shot off toward the swirling dark river in a frenzy. At the bank, the horse reared up again, her eyes rolling with fear, and finally flung me off onto the hard rocky shore. My right leg screamed with pain, and a sharp rock had left a long bleeding gash in my thigh.

"You cannot escape, you wretched girl!" the elf cried, laughing. He clenched another fireball in his hand, and shot it at me. I rolled away from it, but my left shoulder suddenly seared with pain. _The river…get to the river, _my thoughts urged me. I dragged myself and plunged into the icy cold. The currents were strong from the rains and I was soon pulled into the center and towards the deep. Frantically, I grabbed onto a slick mossy boulder and held on as the river tried to take me down. "Ah…you prefer a death by water? I can have that arranged. And don't worry, your guardian Aronil will join you soon enough. Sleep now, and eternally." A bolt of magic hit me, and my body froze into place. My muscles would not respond to me, and the rock slipped from my grasp. The freezing waters washed over me, pulling me in every direction, except towards the sky and the air. The water pressed closer, the darkness grew deeper….


	2. Chapter 2

"I have an ill feeling about this Imperial, Ahkari. Should we not have left it in the river?"

"Hush, Zaynabi! No more talk of this. If you feel so ill, take some of your moon sugar and calm the twitching in your tail!"

The words were distant and somewhere beyond the veil dark. I felt a thread tugging at my mind, pulling it back to the surface. My heart beat constant and slow; I heard the sound of air washing in through my mouth and filling up my lungs. I listened to all of this life within me, but I knew I must be dead.

"It is not my cravings that make me wary." The voice was soft and strange; it would not let me sleep. It pulled me closer to the light, and closer to the memories spinning around me. Jostled and disjointed, they were full of heat and fire and fear and frost.

My shoulder began to ache, and my leg also throbbed with pain. Soon, every heart beat awakened a new flash of pain all over my body. I could feel myself trying to dive back down into the blissful dark, but everything felt so broken. A faint groan of pain exhaled from my lungs, so weak and small….

"She wakes. Leave me, Zaynabi." Slowly, the rest of my senses began to awaken: exotic scents from faraway lands, mixed with the taste of smoke. The ground beneath me was made of soft hide, but beneath that, I could also feel the springiness of grass.

"Wake now, young one. You have slept for too long," a voice urged. I blinked open my eyes, fighting away the blurred clouds hovering around my vision and finally focused on a brown mass of patched hide above me. "Tell me your name, young one. Speak to Ahkari."

"My name is Rena," I croaked out, and then succumbed to a coughing fit.

"You have been resting for two days now. Ahkari has done what she can to heal your wounds." My head lolled to the side so I could see the voice's owner, and my gaze was lost in the sharp eyes of a brown and white faced Khajiit. The Khajiit reached behind her and presented me with a small red bottle. "Drink this. It will help your body to heal." I lifted my arms off the ground but they flopped back down at my sides, bruised and useless.

"You survived the great river. I know you are strong, young one. Now you must show Ahkari your strength." Ahkari held the bottle out and watched me patiently. Every nerve felt alive with pain, but after an eternity of struggle, I pulled myself into a sitting position and then bowed my head forward, so as to stretch the aching curve of my spine.

"Good. Now drink," she ordered. I reached out my left hand to grab the bottle, but my shoulder seized up with pain and I let my hand fall. Ahkari remained motionless except for the end of her tail which twitched slightly. _Come on, Rena! Just push through the pain and grab the stupid thing! _I told myself. After taking a moment to brace myself, I shot out my arm and grabbed the bottle from her clawed grasp.

Everything felt like it was on fire, but I knew I had to finish drinking the potion before I lost my nerve and started to cry like the stupid, weak girl that I was. I unlatched the top and drained the bottle as fast as I could. Immediately, the aching in my muscles ebbed away, the burning sensation on my shoulder began to cool, and my mind no longer felt as water-logged.

"From where do you hail, Imperial?" Ahkari purred softly.

"Whiterun," I said. The Khajiit's tail flicked back and forth, moving dark shadows on the tent walls.

"…The Khajiit are, regrettably, known for their abilities in sneaking and lying. The young one must understand that if she lies to Ahkari, Ahkari will know," she said.

"I…" the words caught in my throat like fish in a net. What could I say? The Thalmor probably thought I had drowned in the river, but if I told the truth, the Khajiit might try to sell me to the elvish bastards for a few gold coins. On the other hand, Ahkari saved my life, and she might be willing to help me. _What would Aronil do?_ I thought. Nothing came to mind.

"Ahkari knows the look in your eyes, Imperial: the look of the hunted. Khajiit know it well. Tell Ahkari and we will help," she promised.

"The Thalmor," I whisper as softly as I can. My body freezes up as the words exhale from my lips, waiting for a hundred Thalmor agents to descend upon the tent and burn me alive. Ahkari lets out an agitated hiss and we both fall into uneasy silence. The Thalmor's iron grip on Skyrim became even tighter with the demise of the False King.

In Thalmor eyes, we were all guilty. Nords who openly supported the Imperial cause were treated with the same contempt and hostility as any Stormcloak. And although "lesser" races in Skyrim, like Khajiit and Argonian and Dunmer, have always been discriminated against, conditions for them grew worse with the rise of the High Elves. The Thalmor could rule over us and promise peace, but they were not loved.

"Strange that they should want you, Imperial," Ahkari wondered, her large green eyes studying me with increased intensity. "But Ahkari believes you." The flap of the tent peeled open and another Khajiit with silver fur stepped in. The cat's green gaze flickered over me and then turned to Ahkari.

"A traveler wants to see the Dwemer cog," the new Khajiit said. Its voice was lower and gruffer, and sounded closer to a growl than Ahkari's light purr.

"In there," Ahkari answered, nodding her furry head toward a large chest behind her. "This is my brother, Zaynabi."

"I am surprised you are still among the living, Imperial," Zaynabi said as he searched through the contents of the chest. "I wanted to leave you to the mudcrabs, but my sister has a soft heart." He pulled out a large gold-colored cog from the chest, closed the lid, and stood up to leave again. "A pity that she is so kind. I'm sure we will pay for it in the end," he growled bitterly. His sister ignored him, and Zaynabi stalked out of the tent with the Dwemer artifact in hand.

"Grief has made my brother cold. Do not heed his words." A moment later, Ahkari stood up and pawed through a woven basket. "Now, I will give you another healing potion, but now you must give me something in return," she said. When Ahkari retrieved the proper bottle, she settled back into her seat and offered the drink to me. "The Khajiit are traders, after all. We do not do anything for free."

"What do you want? I don't have anything," I said. My gut suddenly clenched with realization: my bow and quiver and supplies and gold…all of it was now the property of the river and I had no way of getting it back.

"Drink first," Ahkari ordered. I drank the healing potion in slower sips and watched the burn wounds on my arm begin to mend and shrink until there was no remnant of trauma left. When I finished, my body felt nearly mended, with the exception of a few sore muscles.

"Now," she purred. "You must pay me."

"How?" I asked warily.

"I sense strength in you, Rena of Whiterun. Do you know how to survive outside city walls? Can you fight?" I nodded.

"Yes. I am good with a knife, but I am better with a bow."

"Show me," the Khajiit said, narrowing her green eyes. Before I could explain that I lost my bow in the river, Ahkari was picking through another chest and then offered me a simple Imperial-style bow and a few iron arrows. Ahkari motioned with her paw to follow her outside and I trailed unsteadily behind her.

As we exited, I imagined entering a full caravan of different colored Khajiit and a slew of treasure-filled tents, but there was only an unhappy-looking Zaynabi and a little campfire to greet us. Outside, the air was cool and draped with the heady scents of firs. Tall trees enclosed the area, and a few leagues away, I could see a cliff and the spray of a waterfall tumbling into a distant valley. It was strange to be so enclosed, but rather than caged, I felt protected. Zaynabi nodded to the bow and arrows in Ahkari's paw and his ears suddenly perked.

"Have you decided your pet is not worth keeping, sister? Are you going to do what the river could not?" he chuckled darkly. Ahkari thrust the bow and arrows into my hand and then stood back a couple of paces.

"If my brother is rude to you again, you have my permission to shoot him," she hissed. Zaynabi's laughter morphed into a low, threatening growl and his ears pinned back against his skull.

"What are you doing, Ahkari?" he snarled. "That is our only bow!" Ahkari did not react to her brother and instead grabbed an apple from a nearby satchel and started to walk away from the camp and down the road. When she was about a quarter of a mile away, she stopped and turned to face me.

"I want to see if you have any basic skill," she called back to us. "I will toss this apple into the air, and you will pierce it with an arrow. Are you ready?" I tested the strength of the bow without an arrow, pulling the line back to my cheek, feeling the effort in my arms and the weight of the wood. It was not ideal. The bow was heavier and larger than I was used to, and not well balanced. I nocked an arrow and aimed down the road, focusing all of my attention on the apple's bright red skin.

"Ready!" I yelled to her. I took a deep breath and concentrated. With a flick of her paw, Ahkari sent the apple sailing into the air. I released the arrow and the soft brush of feathers grazed by my cheek like a kiss. After a few minutes, Ahkari returned to the camp and pulled the arrow from the core of the apple. She took a satisfied bite from the fruit, and tossed the arrow back to me.

"Not bad," Zaynabi conceded reluctantly. "But what about close combat?" he asked.

"I can use a dagger when I need to, but I don't use swords." As I spoke, I remembered all of the failed sword-training lessons with Aronil. He tried for years to teach me, but eventually even Aronil realized that teaching me to fight with a sword was about as useful as teaching cow how to dance. Besides, anyone can swing a sword around. But the bow was sleek and silent and, in the right hands, more deadly than any other kind of weapon in the world.

"And what about Sneaking?" Ahkari asked.

"It's easy for me to hide, if that is what you're asking," I answered. Ahkari and Zaynabi shared a long look, and then Zaynabi bared his teeth.

"No," he spat. "I know what you are thinking, Ahkari, and the answer is no."

"It could be our only chance, brother!"

"Haven't we suffered enough, Ahkari? No one can help us! Especially not some Imperial brat!"

"You are wrong, Zaynabi. You must trust me!" she begged. Zaynabi's fur bristled, but he had nothing else to say. He let out an angry snarl and then stormed off into the woods nearby, leaving us in the quieting air of dusk. I thought about running away then. With a bow and a few arrows, I could vanish into the woods, hunt for game, hike to a small town, and then wait for news from Aronil. It would be so easy….

"Come back inside, Rena," Ahkari said, her voice tinged with disappointment. She disappeared into the small tent again but my feet remained planted outside. This Khajiit saved my life, but Aronil might be waiting for me somewhere. And by the sound of it, Ahkari had some sort of plan for me that might delay me even more. My hand gripped the bow until my fingers ached and then I followed Ahkari back into the tent. After placing the bow and arrows back into their respective chest, I sat across from Ahkari and pulled my knees close to my chest.

"Zaynabi does not trust anyone, and he is right not to. We have gone through hard times. We were once a caravan of ten Khajiit. At first, it was just our mother and father and two others trading through Skyrim, but then our mother gave birth to a litter of six, including Zaynabi and I. Ahkari remembers being happy." She paused, closed her glowing green eyes, and then bowed her head, as if overcome with grief. "Many years ago, when Ahkari was still young, a traveler sold a dragon claw to us, made of some material that we had never seen before."

"A dragon claw?" I breathed. "Like the ones that open the Nord burial tombs?"

"Yes…but the traveler did not want it for some reason. He gave it to us for almost nothing. We thought then that we could sell it to some mage in Solitude and become the richest Khajiit in Tamriel." Ahkari stopped again and heaved a tired sigh.

"But that was not to be. Zaynabi and I were playing away from the caravan when we heard screaming. We hid and watched as members of the Thieves Guild ransacked our tents and shouting for the claw. My parents wisely gave it to them, but the thieves showed no mercy. They stole the rest of our belongings, set fire to our tents, and killed our family."

"I'm…so sorry," I said quietly.

"It is the past, but Ahkari has been thinking of a way to heal. I cannot bring back my family, and the Thieves Guild is too large to take revenge on. So Ahkari wants something else," she said, lifting her head up and matching my gaze.

"The claw?" I asked. Ahkari nodded.

"Ahkari has prayed to the gods for a long time and waited for a sign. Then she sees a young girl in the river and saves her from death. Now the girl must repay Ahkari's kindness," she said, the fervor in her voice growing.

"How am I supposed to do that?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"You will find the Thieves Guild in Riften, discover the claw, and steal it back for us. Then your debt is paid."

"And if I refuse?"

"Ahkari would have to give you to the Thalmor, however much she would not want to," she purred softly. "Do we have a deal, Rena of Whiterun?" Every part of me screamed to run and hide. Every instinct I had was begging me to escape and get out. I felt like I trapped in the river again and unable to breathe or think; there was only one inevitable end, and that was death. I could die at the hands of the Thieves Guild in some Riften sewer, or I could be tortured to death by the Thalmor in a crumbling, frozen fort. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and sealed my fate.

"Deal."


End file.
